By noon, the noise in the cafeteria gradually grew denser. New students flooded in groups of twos and threes, and the clattering of trays, the sound of chairs being pulled out, and the excited or weary chatter blended into a background hum.
Lillian’s presence was like a stone thrown into this bustling lake, quickly drawing many eyes.
Her flowing, frost-white long hair and her cool temperament—so out of place with the dark uniforms or ordinary clothes surrounding her—made her a striking sight, even as she just stood there quietly.
Whispered discussions spread like ripples nearby.
“Who is that? A new professor?”
“Doesn’t look like it… she looks too young, but her vibe is so special.”
“Look at her dress and hair accessories… those patterns, aren’t they the Variant Runes found on the Imperial Sash of the Holy Moon Empire?” A student with more worldly experience narrowed his eyes, lowering his voice even further. “Could she be the daughter of some Grand Duke who snuck out?”
“What would a daughter of a Grand Duke be doing here? Experiencing life?”
Lillian turned a deaf ear to the scrutiny and whispers surrounding her. Her gaze did not shift even a fraction for them, as if those voices were nothing more than inconsequential wind. She walked straight toward Jiang Ming’s table, her steps steady, the hem of her skirt swaying slightly.
She wasn’t worried about being recognized; she hadn’t shown her face in public for a hundred years, and portraits of her on the market were few and far between.
Most people only knew that the Empress of the Holy Moon Empire was peerlessly beautiful.
Then, under Jiang Ming’s gaze—before he could fully react—she naturally sat down in the empty seat across from him.
She reached out, her long, fair fingers grasping the untouched cup of orange juice on the table.
Jiang Ming was completely stunned.
He had imagined many scenarios for their reunion: perhaps looking at each other from across a vast crowd at some formal occasion, or meeting at a corner somewhere in the Imperial Capital, or even a sharper confrontation.
But it should have been a long time from now, and absolutely not right now.
Lillian set the cup down. She lifted her eyes to look at Jiang Ming, her red pupils surging with surprise, like a person in a long drought encountering rain.
Of course she would be here.
She remembered it very clearly. Her Lord Protector, her teacher, her brother, her lover—the man she had once given everything to keep—had a deep-rooted bad habit: he didn’t like eating breakfast.
On countless busy or lazy mornings, he would choose to skip that meal until noon, when hunger would finally force him to set aside whatever he was doing and go eat.
So she had been waiting here. From the end of their chat in the early morning, through the sun rising higher, until the cafeteria was gradually filled with the clamor of students.
She had been here all along. Waiting for him, just as she had for many years in the past—in the long corridors of the palace, outside the tents of the military camp, and in the late night of the study filled with incense and the scent of gunpowder. Waiting for him to finish his work, waiting for him to look back, waiting for him to see her.
Jiang Ming watched Lillian pick up the orange juice. He took in the noise of the cafeteria, the curious looks from all around, and the familiar face before him.
He had to react. Now, immediately.
So, after that brief freeze, Jiang Ming frowned slightly, looking as if he were searching his memory but coming up empty.
“I’m sorry,” he spoke, his voice steady. “Do we… know each other?”
Jiang Ming did not choose to acknowledge her. Lillian’s betrayal felt like it had happened only yesterday; Jiang Ming did not dare, nor did he want to, recognize her.
Lillian’s fingers tightened around the cup for an instant.
Deep within those red eyes, the surprise dimmed instantly, like a flicker of candlelight that had just been lit only to be shaken by a sudden cold wind.
Disappointment—cold, sharp, and carrying the weight of a century of waiting—stabbed into the softest part of her heart like a poison-tipped needle.
Even though the connection coming from that drop of blood in the Star Lake was burning and clear, and even though she was one hundred percent certain that the soul she had searched for for a century was carried within this body…
Hearing those words “don’t know each other” and seeing that look of a stranger in his eyes still made her breath catch slightly.
A hundred years of watching, with the Star Lake as witness… had she crossed through time only to find a soul that had completely forgotten her?
The stinging pain of that moment was real and chilling, almost making her lose her calm expression. She lowered her eyelashes, looking at the orange liquid swaying in the cup.
He forgot. Forgot the teachings, forgot standing side by side, forgot the arguments, forgot the final look and the flames in the dungeon… and he forgot her. All the entanglement, the love and hate, the heavy past—in his brand-new memory, perhaps it was all just a blank space.
However…
Just as that layer of cold disappointment was about to solidify, another thought pierced through the wasteland like a spring sprout.
The connection of the Star Lake could not be wrong. The essence of a soul could not be faked. He was Jiang Ming—her Jiang Ming.
Then, forgetting… perhaps it wasn’t the worst outcome.
What if those conflicts of ideology, opposing stances, and the irreconcilable duties and personal feelings that had pushed them to the brink… everything that stood between them, so heavy it once crushed them both into bloody messes… what if it had all truly been erased from his memory along with those flames and the century of silence?
Then, the man sitting across from her right now was still the man who haunted her dreams, but he no longer bore the mission and shackles of the Lord Protector. He was no longer an imperial hidden danger that she had to weigh, confront, and yet couldn’t bear to let go of.
And she would no longer have to be the Empress Lillian, who had to make cruel choices between her empire and him.
They could just be… two individuals meeting again, drawn to each other’s souls.
The ice of disappointment cracked, and Lillian felt a trace of warmth flow through her body once more.
The last time, it was their shared past, uncompromising ideologies, and unavoidable responsibilities that tore them apart.
But what if, this time, the canvas was nearly blank?
Lillian looked up and gazed at Jiang Ming again. Her face had returned to calm, and a smile even curved at the corners of her lips.
Deep within that smile, the vicissitudes of a century had settled, yet a small, cautious flame had also been lit.
She accepted this reality.
In fact, she began to cherish the nearly extravagant second chance that this reality provided.
“Classmate, do you believe in love at first sight?”
Her smile was like a blooming flower, as if she were reborn.